Bird of Summer
by missgolightly
Summary: Remus tells Sirius of his past summers and how he became who he is.  R/S implied  though not graphic , rated T for mild language.  I'm horrible at summaries; sorry!
1. Chapter 1

_I know our days are numbered,  
early bird of summer;  
You'll fly south just as the fall begins._

The wind blew fiercely, rustling the nearly-dead leaves in the trees. Sirius shivered and pulled his coat tight around him. "What, pray tell, are we doing here? I'm freezing my bloody bollocks off."

Remus didn't speak. He kept his hand on a rotting wood post, gripping so tightly his fingertips were red. His gaze settled on a decrepit, crumbling cottage. As Sirius stared from the cottage to Remus, then back again, his teeth chattered with cold. "Why are we staring at an old house? What the bloody hell is this place?"

The wind halted just long enough for Remus to speak. The hush of the lush, golden plain and the creek beds surrounded the two of them as a voice, barely above a whisper, croaked "This is where I grew up. This is my home."

Realization and awe filled Sirius' face. "Really? This is it?"

Remus nodded, more to the post than to his companion. "Yep. This, this right here," he said, gently kicking at the post. "This was a fence. Wrapped all 'round here." He pointed around the cottage and towards a barn as decayed as the house. "There, too. Fence everywhere. White picket fences, just like in the Muggle storybooks."

"Can we," Sirius started, pausing as Remus turned to look at him. There was something in his eyes, not sadness, particularly, but not happiness, either. He drew a quick breath against the wind and began again. "Can we go, you know, inside?"

"I don't know if there's anything left inside to see."

"We can try, though," He put his hand on Remus' shoulder and felt the young man flinch. "Sorry, mate."

"It's—it's alright."

"No, but really. Can we go inside?" Sirius smiled a wicked, toothy grin. "I promise no beasties will harm us."

The tawny-haired man, not much older than a boy in age but nearly as ancient as the house in physicality, forced a closed-lipped smile. "I suppose, if the desire has truly overtaken you."

The resulting grin lit up his whole pale-skinned face. "C'mon, then!"

He grabbed Remus by the hand and drug him across the yellowing grass to the cottage. He stepped inside and waited as Remus walked in, a piece of ceiling falling on his brown coat.  
"Where to first, oh host?"

Remus brushed the plaster off his shoulder. "Here would be a pleasant place to start. This," he squinted as he looked around the remnants of an old room. "This is the sitting room, I believe. Yes, front door here, sitting room here. Merlin, it looks the same, save the falling ceiling."

They walked all through the dilapidated house, Remus pausing to chuckle at an old memory or story or Sirius stopping to ask a question. Most of the furniture was gone; looted, Sirius assumed, and the wind blew through the house with an audible howl.

"Mum liked chickens," Remus said as they sat together on a remaining bench on the back veranda. "We had dozens of chickens, and I hated them all except for one named Franz Ferdinand."

"Franz Ferdinand? You named your chicken that?"

"He was the archduke of Austria, and my rooster was the archduke of the Lupin land. It made sense when I was eight."

"Of course you knew what archdukes were when you were eight."

"Oh, stuff it."

Sirius smiled, then stood, circling his wrists and stretching his arms. "C'mon, let's go. I want to see all of the Lupin land that Franz ruled so mightily."

Remus groaned and stood, walking with his lanky, dark-haired counterpart. They walked toward a tree with a paddle swing attached to its limbs. Sirius immediately plopped into the seat and gave the lithe boy a pleading look. Remus sighed and began pushing him absent-mindedly. "I used to love this swing."

"I can see why. It's brilliant."

Neither spoke as Sirius swung his legs and concentrated on the creak of rope on wood and the comforting touch of Remus' hands on his back with each downfall. The sun was on the horizon, glowing bright and blinding in their vision. "I'd much like to have a swing like this someday."

"I can leave it, if it's all the same to you."

Sirius gave one last, hearty movement of his legs, then propelled himself forward. He landed crouching on the soft Earth beneath the tree. "What's your problem with the swing?"

"Take a look at the seat."

He caught the seat as it came flying back at him and eyed the plank of wood between his hands. It was stained with blood. He made a quiet gasp and it fell from his hands, coming to settle between the two of them. "Is this—is it where..?"

Remus nodded solemnly. "Yeah."

The world began to glow amber, the harsh glare of the sun gentling behind a hill. Remus sunk down where he stood, staring out into space. Sirius, still on the ground, crawled to him, much like a child. "Tell me?"

"What's there to tell? I got bit by a werewolf. End of story."

"Moony, can't you just tell me?"

Remus narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow at the puppy-eyed Sirius. That nickname, that reminder of the times when things were actually okay: it was his kryptonite. He felt his reserve crumble with every dramatic bat of long, pureblood eyelashes.

"Pwease?"

"Godric, yes, just stop with the babytalk, you know how that irritates me."

"Oh, goody! You'll tell me!" Sirius waited eagerly, hands folded in his cross-legged lap. All was silent except for the chitter of crickets closeby. "Aren't you going to tell me, then?"

"Wait a moment, I'm trying to find my words."

"Just start from the beginning, maybe?"

Remus drew a long sigh, running his palms over his face. "I would have to start from the very beginning. It's a very long, very boring story."

"I'll bet it's not boring. And I've loads of time."

He groaned. "Okay! I'll tell you! Merlin. Well, it all started long ago. I was, maybe, four or five years old. My first love-"

"Oh, a love story!"

"Do you mind?" Remus shot a look at Sirius, who shook his head furiously. "Alright then. My first love was a girl named Sadie."

"A girl? Why, Remus, you devil. You never told me!"

"I was five, Sirius! And who, exactly, is telling this story? Me or you?"

"You are. Go on."

"Thank you. As I was saying, my first love was a girl named Sadie. And, oh, Sirius, I did love her. Well, as much as a five year old can love another five year old. And five year olds love everything, so I imagine, in retrospect, of course, that it was quite a bit that I loved her. She lived next door, about an acre over..."


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey! Hey you!"

An auburn-haired boy runs across the tall grass, over to the fence line. His overalls are itching him, his trainers scattered somewhere along the front porch. He puts his hands on the barbed wire and smiles, a crooked, popsicle grin spreading across his face. "I've never seen you 'afore. Whas' your name?"

A tiny girl with thick, rolling brown curls puts her hands on her hips and cocks an eyebrow at him. "An' why should I tell you?"

The boy shrugs and sticks his hands in his pockets. "I 'unno. My name's Remus."

"That sure is a funny name."

"You won't think it's so funny when I try'n give you some candy."

The girl's cerulean blue eyes grow wide with excitement, but it's quickly squelched. "Mother said I'm not 'sposed to take candy from strangers."

Remus thinks on this a moment, the candy rustling in his pocket. "Well, how 'bout this. I told you my name, so you tell me yours, and then we won't be strangers no more. I don't know a rule that says you can't take candy from a friend."

She smiles, wipes her hand on her pinafore, and sticks it out in introduction. "Pleasure, Remus. I'm Sadie. Now gimme some candy."

And this is how they became friends.

-xxxxx-

"Oh, Mum, she's brilliant! She's got lotsa hair an' she lives nex' door with her Gram she says, though I've not seen a house nex' door never, and she has a dress thing that's got a cartoon character on it, Mum! Bugs Bunny!" The young boy chattered away as he sat in a hard-backed chair and fidgeted excitedly.

"Remy, hold still, darling. You're going to make me slip and hack off your ear."

"Mum!"

"Honestly, Remus. Hold still or I'll cut your hair all lopsided."

The Lupins, Mary, John, and Remus, were self-sufficient. They reaped what they sowed in the most literal sense of the phrase. John worked on the land and made what little money the family had that way; Mary stayed home and raised her chubby, cooing baby to a gangly, long-limbed five year old. Remus ran the farm like it was his own world to explore, and in a way, it was. He'd wake early to the sound of Atticus the Rooster crowing and he would shiver with anticipation as he put on his play clothes to gather the eggs with Mary. She'd give him a full, beaming grin as she plucked egg after egg from beneath the hens, and her bubbly, talkative son would rattle on with questions, observations and noises of enthusiasm beside her. This resplendent, captivating little bundle of knowledge and energy was reason for her existence. They didn't have but a two-bedroom cottage and a lot of harsh land, but it was cozy and they were happy. The Lupins made do.

"I dunno why you gotta cut my hair you'self."

"Because, Remy."

"Because. Because, because. That idn't an answer, Mummy."

"It most certainly is."

Remus pouts as the scissors snip away his quickly-lightening hair and the chickens cluck and peck outside the open window. A breeze blows into the cottage, the faded blue curtains twittering in the wind.

"There. All done! See, wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Can I go play now?"

"What'd you say that little girl's name was, again?"

"Sadie," he says as he rolls his eyes. "And she's not little, she's five an' a half!"

"Well, excuse me. I forget how important halves are to children. I firmly believe that I will stay twenty-nine forever."

Remus doesn't understand his mother. Why stay twenty-nine when you could be thirty or forty or fifty? Wasn't bigger better? He brushes the hair from his shoulders and runs out the front door, the screen smacking behind him with a loud clang.

"You watch this door! It'll fall right off the hinges!"

He turns to the house as he runs and sees his mother run her fingers through her dishwater blonde hair and wiping her palms on her apron. But the clang is exciting, he thinks. He really doesn't understand grownups sometimes.

He runs as fast as his legs can carry him, his feet plodding with light thunks on the browned Earth. He careens around familiar landmarks in the yard: the old tire from the Buick, the planks of wood to rebuild the barn door. He dashes over ant hills and around the well spicket and screeched to a stop at the rusted fence gate. She's there waiting, clapping to herself.

"What're you doin'?"

"You're late," she says continuing to clap. "And I'm clappin', can't you see?"

"Why for?"

"'Cos I got bored waitin' for you."

"Oh. Sorry 'bout that," he says sheepishly.

She sighs and stands, brushing the dirt from her knees. "Gram says you're 'lowed to come on this side-a the fence, if you wanna."

"Do you have stuff to do over there?"

"Well, I've got all my stuff from back home."

"Like what?"

"Oh, dolls and dresses and my fancy tea set that Mummy never lets me play with, but Gram says it's okay at her house."

Remus crinkles his nose and lets out a disgusting groan. "Ugh, girl stuff."

Sadie clucks her tongue, in a perfect imitation of Remus's mother, he thinks, and gives him a look. "Well, whaddya think we should do then, Mister Smart Guy?"

"Well, uh," he pauses, going over the layout of his property in his brain. "We got a rope swing and a creek."

Her eyes light up again and she smiles broadly, and Remus notices her front tooth is missing. "You got a swing and a creek? Count me in!"

She crawls underneath the barbed wire and grabs his hands. "Show me where 'is creek's at."

"Oh, you're'n luck!" Remus says as he takes off into a run. "The swing's close by the tree! So we can do both!"

They sprint across the abundance of upwardly crawling green grass to the bed of the creek. Mary can hear them giggling as they run past and she smiles to herself as she washes the dishes. They are both in the water as soon as their bare feet hit the mud and Sadie throws some on the giggling boy. He lets out a wail as the water hits his bare arms. "Thas' cold!"

"It's 'posed to be cold! It's the summer, goof!"

They splash and play, searching the floor of the creek for buried treasure. By the time the sun begins creeping under the horizon, they are soaked to the bone and shivering. He's pushing her forward as she sits on the wooden paddle-seat of the swing, swaying her legs. She turns her head to him, her thick hair slapping the ropes on either side of her. "Remus?"

"What?"

"I like this."

"Me, too. 'S fun."

"Yeah," she says, turning her gaze back to the sunset. "I think I'd like to do this everyday."

"The same ol' thing?"

"Well, not 'zactly. But I like to sit in this swing and watch the sun fall down."

He says nothing, just pushes her forward. She sighs contentedly. "Yes, Remus, I think I very much like this. Can we do this, just this part, every day?"

"I guess," he shrugs, giving her a good push.

She turns around and smiles at him, the freckles exploding on her face in the waning sunlight. "I like you, Remus Lupin. I am very glad't we are friends."


	3. Chapter 3

Mary Lupin watches the two young children from inside the sitting room of the house. She can hear them howling with laughter and chittering away with glee. She shakes her head when she hears her son yell about the Roman Empire to the girl not much older than himself, and she buries her head in her book again. Remus got his bookworm from his mother and his looks from his father. John Lupin is a tall, lanky man, with bright eyes and a crooked smile. He has a lust for life and a lust for hard work where Remus has a lust for knowledge. Even with as small and young as he is, he knows so much. Mary sighs, for little Remus isn't so little anymore. But as she hears the squeals of joy from outside the window, she thinks that maybe he can stay little for a little longer.

"My birt'day is comin' up," says the little girl in a pink and yellow smock. She picks up a rock and throws it hard against the trunk of the tree. Remus is sitting in the paddle swing. "I think we should have a party."

"What kinda party?"

"You've never been to a birt'day party?" she asks, disbelief swallowing her face. Remus is a weird boy, with his nonstop talking and his manic laugh, but he's friendly and he smells like dust and cedar wood. She cannot find it in herself to believe that any little boy (and he is little, younger than herself) can go his whole life without going to a birthday party, no matter how weird he is.

He shrugs. "There idn't any other kids 'round here. Jus' me."

"Well, now you got me!" Sadie says with an open-mouthed smile, grabbing the boy's hand. "An' since it's my birt'day, we're gonna do what I wanna do today."

Remus throws his head back and nearly growls as she pulls him to the fence gate. The gate works, as rusty as it is, but they always crawl underneath, as a bit of rebellious tradition. They walk across the crunching grass to a small garden in sight of Gram's (Mrs. Bartley to Remus) house. Sadie has either been planning or playing on her own; the former more believable than the latter, for she is up early and with Remus until the sun sets. It's a white, metal tea table with matching chairs. The tea set is already out.

"Aw, Sadie, d'we really gotta play tea-time? I hate tea."

"Yessir, we do," she says, pushing down on his shoulders until he's seated. "And how cn'ya hate tea? I've scones, too, Remus."

She sits across from him and he smiles. He likes the way she says his name, with inflection and an accent he's never quite heard before. Oh, he's heard Mummy's accent, which Pop calls her Guernsey mouth, and he's heard his Pop's accent, much like his own, but he's never heard the way this girl talks. It's almost enthralling, the way the words can roll of her tongue in almost another language entirely. She catches his gaze.  
"Why're you smilin'?"

"No reason. Where're the scones?"

She huffs and pulls a plate closer to him. "Boys. Boys an' their scones."

He shrugs as he grabs a scone and stuffs it into his mouth. "Ah jawst-"

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

He swallows and scowls at her. "You're a reg'lar ol' muther hen, you know 'at?"

She brings the teacup to her lips and smirks, but says nothing. At regular persisting, Remus brings his own teacup up and takes a swig. He makes a face and sets it back down. "Eghck. Thas' disgustin'."

"Well, silly, you didn't put any sugar'r cream in it."

"You're 'sposed to?"

She lets out a mighty exhale and takes the tops from two small bowls. "I'mma give you two lumpsa, and one dash. That's how m'Gram takes hers, and how I take mine."

She stirs the tea with a small, silver spoon and offers it back to him. "Go 'head. Try it."

He cautiously sips the tea, closing his eyes. He opens his eyes in shock. "Hey, 's not bad!"

"Toldja."

After their tea party, they play House with Sadie's baby dolls. Someone, perhaps her Gramp, has built a small shed that doubles as the playhouse. He's sitting on a wooden crate, holding a plastic baby as she pretends to cook over an old cardboard box. "It's almost ready!"

Remus doesn't much like playing house, but it is Sadie's birthday. He knows on his birthday, he gets to wear whatever he wants and pick what they have for supper, including a small pastry just for him, a special treat once a year. So he supposes he can play this game with her for today, as long as they can go back to hunting for bugs and playing cops and crims tomorrow. She hisses as she turns off the cardboard stove and brings a plate of leaves to him. "Ta-da!"

"What is it?"

"'S meatloaf."

"Looks like leaves to me."

"Use your 'magination. Pretend it's meatloaf."

As she bends down to retrieve the doll from his lap, Remus leans over and kisses her cheek. She shoots up, baby in one hand, the other hand pressed to her cheek.

"I—I'm sorry! I jus'...I jus'-," he stammers, holding his lips. "'S'what mummies and pops do, right? They kiss each other? Y'said to pretend!"

She shakes her head slowly, hand still on her crimson cheeks. "'S'alright. You just...y'scared me, that's all."

"I'm real sorry, Sadie!"

"Don't 'pologize. You're right. 'Swhat mummies and daddies do," She moves the baby to a small pallet they've made on the dirt floor, patting her plastic head. "Jus' don't let it happen 'gain, alright?"

He nods gravely, casting his eyes downward. Suddenly, hands are grabbing his shoulders. "Remus! Remus, we hafta go!"

He lifts his eyes and looks out the door of the shed. The sun is beginning to set. She's grabbing his hands and dragging him out of the playhouse, towards the fence. "This is m'favorite part-a the day! We musn't miss it!"

She is barreling over the gate and dashing across the pasture and Remus is struggling to keep up with her. Moments that feel like years later against the ticking set of the sun, she is in the paddle seat, a comfortable smile settling on her face. He does his usual of stepping behind her and gently pushing her as she watches the sun.

"Happy Birt'day."

"Thank you."

They stay in silence for a little longer, the moan of the old world around them resting her bones growing louder. Just as the sun is level with the far-off grass, she jumps off the swing and steps to him. "You never got me a birt'day present."

She is close to him, very close, and he can feel the strands of her hair blowing onto him. "I didn' know what to get you. Plus, I jus' found out 's your birthday."

"Remus, will you marry me?"

He looks at her, his hazel eyes wide. He can count the freckles on her nose and tries to in their silence, but quickly loses count.

"Remus?"

"Yeah?"

"Remus, will you marry me?"

He catches her eyes, big, blue ocean eyes. "Sure."

She leans forward and kisses him on the lips. He stands frozen, his hands at his sides. It's a simple kiss; closed lips and scrunched, pushing too hard, a small smacking sound, and then it's over. She pulls back and looks at him. "I guess we're married now."

"Guess so."

She kicks at a rock by her feet and fiddles with her hands. "I'm leavin' t'morrow mornin'."

"What? Why?"

"'M only here for the summer. Daddy is picking me up t'morrow in his big automo, and we're going back home."

Remus feels his shoulders sink. He has just gotten used to having a playmate, he has just married her, and now she's leaving? There were more and more things he wasn't understanding every day, and they made his head hurt with how heavy they felt. "Will you be back? Next holiday?"

She grins broadly. "But f'course! And we shall be proper married nex' summer, believe you me!"

He smiles back at her and hears his mother call for supper. Mrs. Bartley's call is not long after Mrs. Lupin's. "Guess we'd better scoot, eh?"

"Guess so."

They walk slowly, holding hands as the sky begins to grow dark. They arrive at the fence and she kisses him again, giggling madly. "I'll see y'round, Remus."

"Next holiday, Sadie."

He stands with his hands on the gate, the old paint crusting to his hands as she runs back to her grandmother's cottage. She has a hold of the door handle and she turns around and gives him a giant wave. He returns it, smiling, then walks back to his own house.

-xxxxx-

"Well, did you have fun today, Remy?"

He pushes the peas around his plate, scowling. He hates peas. "Guess so. Sadie's goin' back home t'morrow, though."

"Oh, that's a shame," says John, scooting his son's chair closer to the table. The closer he is, the more he'll eat, John knows. "She was a lovely girl. A bit sassy, but lovely, all the same."

Remus says nothing, his eyes glued to his plate. Mary nudges her husband and they pause to look at their bewildering, heartbroken five-year-old. "Remy, darling, what ever is the matter?"

"I jus' miss her, s'all."

Mary and John exchange knowing looks, smiles creeping to their lips, and they continue eating to mask the grins. "She'll be back next holiday, Remus. Mrs. Bartley told me 'erself."

"I know." Remus finally scoops a spoonful of peas into his mouth and slowly chews. He waits until his mouth is clear to speak again. "We got married t'day."

"You did?" says Mary, unable to stop the spread of joy on her face. "That's lovely, darling."

"Yeah," he says, moving onto the potatoes. "'Cept she won't be back 'til later, and what if she doesn't love me any more?"

Mary pats his hand soothingly. "That's love f'you, Remus. Fleeting."

He tilts his head and squints his eyes at his mother. She just keeps getting curiouser and curiouser, he thinks to himself. "May I be 'scused?"

"Finish those potatoes, young man. Nobody wants a husband who doesn't eat their vegetables."

He grimaces as he spoons another bite, but he finishes them all.


	4. Chapter 4

He is waiting by the fence, his hair shimmering in the dawning sunlight. His face is clean, his clothes are pressed, and he's wearing one of his father's ties, though it is rather big on him. He scuffs and unscuffs his shoe, and Mary puts a hand on his shoulder. "Steady, Remus. She'll be here. Mrs. Bartley phoned this morning."

"But I can't wait!" he whines, jittering impatiently. "I haven't someone to play with all year, an' now she's back an' I want to see her!"

It is early June and the grass is showing of it. It's dry and prone to crackling beneath the weight of shoes; the sky has been unmoving and dry for weeks. The creeks are shriveling up and wasting away, much like the crops and all the other things that depend so heavily on the English rain. The dust rises in a cloud on the dirt road and Mary smiles.

"Mum, is 'at them? Oh, is it?"

"Patience, dove, and yes. That'd be them, I believe."

"Mum, what if she forgets that we was married last holiday?"

"Were. Were married. And she likely won't forget, dear. She's a bright girl."

His hands flew to the strap of barbed wire in front of him and he began wringing his hands on it, squirming with anticipation. Mary just smiles, as she often does when with her excitable, precocious son. He is six now, and growing upwards and outwards as quickly as a weed. She chuckles, though, when he comes to her and asks for help buttoning his trousers; his baby belly is still pudgy and protruding, and she oftentimes gives it a poke for good measure and warm giggles from the boy.

No sooner is the Renault slowed to a crawl in Mrs. Bartley's driveway when a little girl in a purple dress pours out of the doors, running to the fence, her shoulder-length hair bouncing and flapping behind her.

Remus begins to crawl under the fence, but his mother tightens her grip on his shoulder and he stands straighter. He can hardly keep from hopping the fence in excitement.

Her hands hit the gaps in the wire with a twang, shaking the whole fence line. She smiles breathlessly at him. "Remus! Y'here!"

"Where else would I be, dummy? Ow!"

Mary releases her talon-like grip from his shoulder. "Play nice, you two. And don't get those clothes dirty. Come in and change, if you must."

He rolls his eyes at his mother as she walks back toward their cottage, and he turns to his playmate. "Missed you."

"I missed y'too."

They stood on the drying grass, not saying much, just staring. The swallows sang merrily overhead and the wind stood still, the head swelling around them. He wipes the back of his hand across his forehead and Sadie laughs.

"Why don'cha loosen up 'at tie?"

"I dunno how."

She reaches through the fence and her hands find his tie. She scoots the knot down and Remus exhales, relieved. "Thanks! That feels 'lot better."

She is still, her hands on fiddling with his tie. "Can we play now? I missed the creek. And the swing."

Before he can spit out an answer, she is crawling under the gate, the brown-red dirt dusting her tights. He helps her up and she dusts off her knees. She flashes him a grin, her front tooth missing, and takes off running. "Last one 'ere's a rottin' egg!"

A smile splatters itself on his face and he sprints after her. He pants as he runs, his chest heaving. She shows no signs of slowing. They nearly tumble into the almost bone-dry creek, splashing what little water is there all over their clothes.

"Oh, no!" he shouts, looking down at his pants. "Mum said not to get dirty!"

"Oh, thas' okay," says Sadie flippantly. "Jus' take off your trousers."

Remus stares at this very bold, very strange girl. "But..but you're a..a girl."

"I know!" she shouts. "Here, I'll take mine off, too."

She reaches down and takes off her tights, throwing them onto the bank. She looks at Remus. "Your turn next."

He swallows the lump forming in his throat and takes off his pants, and they are both standing in the bed of a creek in their underwear. A shiver crawls up his spine from the cold water.

"See? 'S'not bad. An' now our bottoms can dry."

He is nervous at first, playing in his underthings around a girl, but he quickly loses his fear to the current of joy washing over him at seeing this girl, his very strange friend again. They splash about and squish the oozing mud between their toes and fingers, careful not to spread it elsewhere. Before they realize it, the sun is beginning to set.

"Oi, Remus, hurry! The sun, the sun!"

She scrambles up the bank and puts on her tights clumsily. She offers a hand to help him up the side, dancing impatiently as he puts his pants and trainers on. "Don't tie 'em, just hurry! The swing is over there, we musn't miss this! I've waited all year f'it!"

They are dashing to the swing, falling over laces and lost shoes. She throws herself into the swing and he stumbles behind her, ready to push the swing as they'd done the entire summer before. He hears her sigh softly as the swing picks up a steady rhythm and the sun begins to fall beneath the horizon. "Don't y'just love the sunset, Remus?"

"I guess."

"What d'you mean, 'you guess'?"

"I like the moon better."

She brushes her hair over her shoulders, her fingers gripping the rope tightly. "I do, too, I 'spose. But the sunset. 'S just...magical."

Remus wonders if he should tell her now about his father; that sometimes, he has a wand that he uses to clean up an especially big mess or fix a leak in the roof. He wonders if he should tell her that Pop can move things with that wand, can lift heavy objects and light feathers alike, and can change the cat into a couch cushion. He wonders if he should tell her he can do the same thing sometimes.

"Remus! Supper's on, c'mon then!"

He pulls the swing to a stop. "Guess I had better take off."

"Me, too. Gram's prob'ly dyin' to see me." She hops off of the swing and turns around to Remus. "Oh, I almost forgot."

"What?"

"You've done and well had y'birthday."

"Yeah," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Back in March."

"How could I go an' forget y'birthday? I'm a right terrible wife."

He looks up to smile at this, but she's pressing her lips against his. "Happy birthday, Remus."

She runs to her house as he stands by a slow-moving swing, his hands on his lips. She had remembered.


	5. Chapter 5

"Do you understand me, Remus?"

"No! I don't! Why can't I go outside?"

"Because!" John Lupin booms, seemingly shaking the pictures from the walls. "I said so, and I'm your father! I command you to not go outdoors after dark! D'you hear me?"

Remus squashes his hands into his lap, nodding reluctantly. Didn't Pop know that the best time of the whole day is when the moon comes out? The full moon would be out next month, the last of the summer, and he has promised himself he would try to draw his own moonshadow in the dirt.

"Good. Now, son, you have to trust me on this."

"Why?"

"Because I know better than y'do, and-"

"No, why can't I go outside?"

John looks at his frustrated son, his mop of tawny hair scrambled atop his head. He reaches down to tousle it. "'S grownup things, Remus. You needn't go trying to find out. You'll only confuse yourself."

He evades his father's touch, swaying in the chair. "Can I go now?"

A sigh. "I suppose. Get along with you."

He leaps from the chair and races out the front door, the screen clanging behind him. Mary just shakes her head and bites her nails, worried.

"It'll all blow over, Mary," he says as he wraps his arms around his wife. "In a few months, we'll be able to send Remus outside whenever he wishes. Just—just not now, 'lright?"

She nods tearfully against his shoulder as he runs his hands over her back, shushing her.

-xxxxx-

"Remus. Remus!"

He sits up in bed, his pajamas rumpled and his covers on the floor. He looks around the room, but hears nothing. He starts to lay back down, but hears the voice again.

"Remus? Remus, answer me!"

"Wozzat?" he mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Whozzere?"

"Remus, you git, s'me! Sadie!"

He squints as he looks toward the edge of the bed once more. "What? Where're you?"

"Outside the window. C'mon, then."

He crawls out of bed and to the open window, and sure enough, there she is, her hair in braids and her nightgown on. "Come on then, out the portrait hole."

He hesitates as she starts to walk off. She turns to see him still sitting inside his room. "What ever is the matter with you? Get out the room an' onto this grass."

"Mum and Pop said-"

"Mum and Pop said what?"

"That I'm not t'be outside after dark anymore."

"Oh, bully. It'll be heaps of fun, and they said that ages ago! S'almost fall now! Come now, we'll be back before they could have even known y'left!"

Remus thinks on this for a moment, then grumbles something incoherent and crawls out of the window. She giggles and takes his hand, leading them out into the pasture.

"Where're we goin'?"

"To the swings."

"Why?"

"You'll see soon enough."

They walk slowly this time, the dark, cool night surrounding them. He looks up and beams at the moon. "Hey, Sadie?"

"Yeah?"

He looks down and notices she is holding his hand. He blushes madly. "Wanna draw moonshadows?"

"Perhaps in a bit. Right now, though, I wanna give y'present to you."

They walk quietly for a bit longer, the occasional owl hooting nearby. Remus walks in front of Sadie, her hands over his eyes as she requested. "Ta-da!"

She removes her hands and Remus sees the swing. He spins around to look at her. "What-?"

"Go on, then. Sit down."

He sits on the wooden plank and she begins pushing him. He kicks his feet energetically, and they quickly get a rhythm going. He sighs as he watches the pregnant moon float in the dark violet sky. "Wow."

"See? I told you the swings're nice."

"They really are," he says in awe, his eyes still locked upon the moon. "I should've trusted you."

"Yes, you should've. Soon, you'll learn I am always right."

He turns his head slightly and catches a glimpse of her in the pale moonlight. She has her head thrown back and she's laughing, stars erupting from her insides and hanging on the canopy of the sky. He tries to stop himself, but he can feel the words tumbling out of his mouth in a fervent heap.

"I love you."

She grabs the ropes and pulls him to a stop in front of her. Her mouth squeezes into a smile. "I love you, too, Remus. Thas' what mummies and daddies do, right?"

"Right," he grins. The heavy glow of the moon dims for a moment behind a moving cloud, and he can almost hear the slight crackle and pop in the twinkling of the stars.

Remus never heard him coming.


	6. Chapter 6

John Lupin bolts up in bed. "Mary, whas' that? Didjou hear that?"

She is sitting up, too, looking ghostly and thin. "Yes, yes. I...I think it was screaming."

"Where's Remus?" John yells. "Remus! Remus, c'mere!"

They wait a moment for the pattering of feet down the hall, but hear nothing. John throws off the covers and races down the hall to his son's room. The window is open, the grey curtains fluttering in the night breeze. "Bloody fuck!"

He runs back into the bedroom, grabbing his wand from the bedside table. Mary is crying. "The bastard came and got him. You stay here."

She nods quickly as the sobs begin to wrack her body. Greyback has come into my home, she thinks, and he has taken my son. "God, help Remus. Please."

John is outside yelling when he hears the screams again; they are coming from the creek. He tears across the open field, the cold air of the night hitting his bare chest and arms, his wand threatening to snap from the pressure he's holding it with. _I'm coming,_ he tries to speak, but merely thinks between gritted teeth._ I'm coming Remus_.

He is near the creek and he can hear wailing by the swings. He gathers his energy and adrenaline and bounds to the swings. He gasps when he arrives.

"Pop, Pop, she's no' movin'-she's no' movin'," Remus whimpers, curled up beside a little girl in a white cotton nightgown. He gingerly puts a hand to her shoulder, shaking her. "Sadie, wake up, please! Wake up!"

"Remus! Are you hurt?" John bellows, stooping down to his son. He tries to pull him away from the girl, but Remus rears back and screams, returning himself to her side. "Remus..."

"Pop, she's hurt! Fix 'er!" he yells desperately. He sits up and grabs John's wand hand. "Use it! Fix 'er! Make 'er better! Pop, she's no' movin'! Sadie! Please, Pop! Fix 'er!"

Remus collapses in sorrow into his father's lap and John's own vision is blurry with wetness. He tries to place a finger to the little girl's neck, but there's not much left of it. He cannot stop the yelp that spills from his throat.

"Pop!" Remus yells, clutching the wand. "Use it! Or-or-or, I'll use it!"

Remus rips the wand from his father's hands and begins swinging it at the slump of a body on the ground. "Work! Work! Please, do magic! I know y'can!" He is shaking with fear and anger and a thousand other emotions as the hot tears drench his face, the swish of the wand slicing the air. "Bloody 'ell, work!"

John ignores his son's cursing and stands swiftly, scooping his son up in his arms. "Remus, son, look at me. She's...she's gone. We can't save her." His son's face is bewildered, his jaw hanging open, water leaking from the corners of his eyes. "We...we 'afta to see if y'hurt."

"'E bit me, but she's more hurt'n me! Please, Pop, we need t'help 'er!"

"Oh, God," He touches Remus's shoulder, and there it is. A raw, bleeding bite. His heart stops. "Come, now. To the house."

He is trembling as he runs his yowling son back into the house. Remus is hanging over his father's shoulder, screeching into the night, his pleas and laments fading from her as he disappears into the twinkling dew of the farm grass. Soon, they are no more than a mirage.

"Love y'Sadie, I love you! Please, I love you..."


	7. Chapter 7

Sirius sat frozen, his hands chilly and his heart nearly stopped. "Oh, Moony, I-"

"I've never told anyone that," he said, his fingers fiddling with a blade of grass. "I don't much like talking about it, you know?"

Sirius just nodded; words had escaped him. He felt something like fear or sadness or maybe rage welling up in his chest. "What—what happened after that?"

"Naturally, of course, her parents were devastated. They lived in Manchester or somewhere, I believe. Mrs. Bartley promptly sold her share of the land to us and moved away. Well, I say sold, but she actually just gave it to us. Felt sorry for me, she said. But it was her I pitied. She had lost her granddaughter, after all. Never saw any of them again after the funeral."

Sirius bit his lip as Remus spoke, monotone and as if reading from a script. All the color had left his face and he was staring gravely at the man with the tawny hair before him.

"You know," Remus said with a bit of a chuckle. "I still take my tea the same way. Two lumpsa, one dash. I've never been able to take it any other way."

Sirius forced a little smile, touching Remus's hand. "That's good then, I suppose, right? She left you with something."

Remus looked at Sirius, his mouth set. "So, no quips?"

"Quips for what?"

"My first love being a girl and my current love being, well, you?"

Sirius shook his head, too crushed by this man's story to be offended by the remark at his usual callousness. "No comments from the peanut gallery, sir."

Remus relaxed, holding the dark-headed man's hand. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Not being your usual arse-like self."

"Hey! I am fully capable of being caring, too, I'll have you know."

"I know," he says, leaning his head on an available shoulder. "I still miss her, sometimes."

"Well, do you want to say goodbye?" Remus looked up at Sirius, his head tilted. Sirius couldn't help but suppress a laugh at this expression. "Well, then? Do you?"

"Say goodbye?"

"Yeah. I mean, we are here, right where it happened." Sirius looked at the ground beneath him with new eyes and shuddered. "You could give her a proper send-off, if you will."

"Sirius, it's been fifteen years. I'm a little late to the ball, don't you think?"

"Better late than never, yes? Oh, don't give me that look. You will regret that you didn't if you don't. Come on now, get up."

Remus sighed and stood, taking the swing between his hands. Sirius stood beside him, his head down. It was several silent, tense moments before Remus found his voice.

"I—I guess, erm, I guess this is goodbye, then."

Sirius nudged him with his elbow. "Go on, then, say what you're really feeling. You've had fifteen years to practice this speech. Wow me."

Remus coughs into the sleeve of his coat, then shifts his weight to his other foot. "I, I am really sorry about what happened, you know, that night. I 'pologize, honestly. But we were kids. We weren't to know...," His voice trailed off and Sirius heard him choke back something, but kept his eyes on the ground. "I am sorry. And I really did love you. Goodbye, Sadie."

Sirius scooped down and picked up a handful of dirt, handing it to Remus. He need not speak; Remus could almost read his mind by now.

He took the dirt and threw it into the air, ignoring the burning in his eyes when it hit the wind. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

Remus felt Sirius's fingers find his own and squeeze them tight. A swallow, the last of his flock, sang somewhere in the distance.


End file.
